In the Aftermath
by wirenoose
Summary: It's a topic Mello doesn't like. The attacks. He knows Matt's proud of him, knows Matt loves him, but that doesn't change anything. He's told Mello that it's not a weakness, it's not something he should be ashamed off. But Mello still views it as a personal failure. Ever since the explosion, ever since the Kira case, Mello's been unable to cope properly. (Warnings: General Anxiety)


I told myself I'd actually write something on my checklist.

I absolutely love writing Mello with an anxiety/panic disorder, and also, author Mello, so I figured I'd slip that in there as well. As seems to be the case with most of my writing, this is purely self indulgent.

* * *

Mello's never actually been to the pharmacy, he outright refuses. But Matt's out and that stupid bottle is nearly empty. He stands in line, fidgeting quietly, his hands jammed into the kangaroo pocket of his hoodie. He's pretty sure his cheek is bleeding, with how much he's chewed on it in the past four minutes, he'd be surprised if it wasn't. But it could very well just be his lips.

The old woman in front of him hums as she waits for her prescriptions. The pharmacist is running back and forth between shelves, trying to find the woman's name. It takes nearly five minutes but he returns with twelve separate prescriptions.

Finally, it's Mello's turn.

"Picking up for Keehl," he says. He's been practicing ever since he found out he'd have to do this himself. Matt had squeezed his shoulder, even wrote it down for him so he could check it before going into the pharmacy. But he says it all right and the pharmacist nods before going back to the shelves. Mello's glad that the cost of the prescription is covered by insurance, if only because his hands are too shaky to handle money.

"All right, sir, if you could verify the address for me, and date of birth?"

For a good handful of seconds, Mello draws a blank, grasping for the required information. It comes back to him just as the pharmacist is looking at him strangely. Quickly, he recites his birth date and the address of his shared apartment.

The pharmacist wishes him a good day but Mello's already half way across the store the crinkly paper bag clutched tight to his chest. He makes it into the car in the lot before his body catches up to him. His vision blurs as his heart rate kicks up. His chest tightens and he squeezes his eyes shut, trying to figure his chances of getting the bag open and then unscrewing the lid on the bottle before completely melting down.

But, just as soon as it comes, it goes away, leaving him breathless.

Mello still feels too out of it to drive, so he doesn't. Instead, he pulls out his phone, pressing down the *3* and waiting.

"Yo, this is Matt, leave a message."

Mello doesn't, he hangs up and breathes, bracing his forehead against the steering wheel. It takes a few more minutes for him to calm down completely but once he does, he starts the car and drives home.

Matt's laptop sits on the couch, but Matt is still gone. Mello drops the prescription bag on the side table and curls up against the arm of the couch, closing his eyes. The apartment is eerily quiet without Matt in it, but there's not much he can do about that.

* * *

Matt opens the door, sighing when he realizes Mello forgot to lock it when he got home.

"Mells, you called, did everything go all right?"

They have a system. If Mello really needs to get ahold of Matt, he'll call twice, but if he just needs to hear Matt, he'll call once so he can listen to the voicemail. Matt knows that if something bad really did happen, Mello would've called twice, but he can't help but worry. Especially because Mello is stubborn and it had taken a month and a half just to get him to agree to use the damn system.

Mello's on the couch, if Matt had to guess he'd say that Mello's been there ever since he got home. The blond uncurls from his protective ball and sits up.

"Fine," he mumbles.

Matt slips off his shoes and sets his gear bag down by the door before joining Mello on the couch. It takes a minute but Mello climbs into his lap, resting his head against Matt's shoulder. He takes a deep breath that comes out a little shaky and Matt settles his hands on Mello's back.

"That bad huh?"

"Fine, 's fine,"

"Right, is that why you're hiding?"

"Shut up."

Matt ony chuckles, shifting slightly to make the both of them more comfortable. He's usually the one to pick up the prescription, but Mello had burned through his medication faster than he normally did. They'd had to refill earlier and Matt had a job set so it fell down to Mello to go to the pharmacy.

Matt runs his fingers through Mello's hair, noting the tension bleeding out of his shoulders.

"Better?"

"Mm."

"Good."

Mello dozes off after a few minutes, breathing evening out as he relaxes further. He's been stressed, Matt knows that. Coming out of writer's block, finishing a novel, and writing articles for three drastically different magazines will do that to a person. Not to mention constantly denying requests for public events and interviews. The anonymity is all Mello has for himself.

The new novel has already garnered a level of popularity unlike anything he's seen before. Matt's proud of him.

They'll have to do something to celebrate; going out is out of the question. Maybe he'll cook, usually that's Mello's thing because it serves as a therapy of sorts for him.

Looking at him, Matt can see the lingering evidence of the day's stress. Despite being asleep, Mello's back is still tight, he's been chewing on the ends of his hair, and Matt can see the faintest hint of red lines on Mello's upper arms. He's still not broken that habit, it's one he's had since Wammy's. It's not intentionally self destructive, but he can't really file 'scratching himself until he bleeds' as one of Mello's healthier ways of coping with stress.

With a quiet sigh, Matt presses a kiss to Mello's head and closes his eyes.

It seems like seconds but when Matt opens his eyes, Mello is sitting on the floor, typing feverishly away at his personal laptop. His hair is pulled back in a ponytail, his glasses are on; Mello's working on a story.

Matt sits up, stretching his arms and popping his back as he does so, careful not to look at Mello's screen. The blond is particular about Matt seeing his work before it's done, either that or it's a part that Mello doesn't mind him seeing.

"Sleeping Beauty finally wakes up, huh?" Mello looks up from his screen with a grin

"Yeah well," Matt just waves his hand dismissively, glad that Mello's feeling better. "What are you working on?"

"Old draft I never finished, it woke me up and I had to get everything down before I forgot it."

Surprisingly, Mello hands Matt the laptop, allowing him to look.

It's not organized in any particular way; three pages full of sudden cut off sentences and new lines for new ideas. It's full of red marked spelling errors and more than a few green grammar errors, but Matt knows Mello doesn't care about those at this stage. It's the details that catch his attention.

"Is this one of L's old cases?"

Mello takes back the laptop, nodding after a moment. He tips his head back against the couch cushion, closing his eyes.

"I always said I'd write a book about him, and I never have."

"How long have you-"

"For a while. Even back at Wammy's, I'd wanted to write something, but I guess I never could after the Kira case, until now anyways." He offers up a small smile and Matt can't help but lean forward to kiss him.

When he moves back, Mello's staring, a humorous light in his eyes but looking every bit as cocky as he does when he's comfortable.

"What was that for?" he asks.

"I just think you're amazing is all," Matt shrugs, pushing himself off the couch. "Now, in honor of your most recent novel being so successful, I suggest we celebrate."

Mello will deny it if asked, but Matt knows he enjoys the praise, the recognition of a job well done. Matt's more than happy to indulge him.

"Matt, we don't-"

"Yes we do. I just happen to know that your favorite brand of scotch is available at the corner store now, we can do some shopping and I'll make dinner. That sound okay?"

Matt turns around, if just to see Mello's expression. It's soft, content.

"Yeah, that sounds great."

"Great, finish up your outline, I'm gonna take a shower."

He waits until Mello's attention is back on the laptop before walking down the hall. Ever since the explosion, Mello's been hesitant to go out in public, especially given his paranoia about the Kira case. Matt does his best to remind him that Near has everything under wraps. No one related to the case saw Mello's face, he has nothing to worry about.

Not really, but the nightmares say otherwise.

Matt sighs and turns on the fan in the bathroom. He leaves the door open slightly, if Mello gets panicked it'll be hard for him to physically turn the knob. He strips out of his clothes and turns the water on, waiting until it's almost scalding before stepping in.

If he's being honest, he worries about Mello sometimes, most times, all the time. He knows Mello can handle himself, but ever since Kira fell, he's been different. As children, Matt thought Mello didn't play with the others because they didn't like him, or he preferred to be alone. It wasn't until they became closer that Matt found out that Mello was literally incapable of dealing with their peers. Writing had been a good outlet, even then; the two would stay up for hours past their curfew, Mello reading his pieces to Matt.

Now Mello writes fiction, and crime novels, and short stories. He writes about murderers, and about lost children, and he's been getting better.

By the time Matt's out of the shower, Mello has finished putting down his thoughts and he's got his shoes on to. He's perched on the arm of the couch, bouncing his leg and chewing lightly on his knuckle.

Not wanting to spook him, Matt makes sure his footsteps are heavy as he enters the living room. Mello turns around to look at him and his leg stops bouncing. He drops his hand, grimacing at the red skin and teeth marks he left behind before standing up.

"Ready? It shouldn't take too long," Matt adds, knowing it might put Mello at ease.

"Mm, yeah, I'm good."

They make their way outside, Mello looping his arm through Matt's as they walk. He keep his head down, his hood pulled over to cover most of his scar. Matt hums quietly, occasionally letting a few words of a song slip out. They arrive at the corner store within ten minutes, and Mello still seems to be doing okay.

Matt picks up a hand held basket from the stack by the automatic door and hands it to Mello. They've been to this particular store enough times to know where everything is, but they take their time wandering up and down the aisles, absently plucking down whatever items they need from the shelves.

Finally, coming upon the oversized section for alcohol, Mello spots the familiar label of his favorite scotch, a brand he used to send Matt to the liquor store some hour and a half away to get. He take two bottles down from the shelf, just in case, and ignores the amused smile on Matt's lips.

Matt shows his I.D. to the cashier and, in a little over a minute, they're on their way back home.

"You still doing okay?" Matt asks, shifting one of his grocery bags to his left hand so he can put his arm around Mello's shoulders.

"'m fine, Matty."

"Just checking, I wanna' make sure my wonderfully talented, best selling author of a boyfriend is doing okay."

Mello scoffs, but Matt see the blush before he ducks his head.

When they get home, Mello hops up onto the counter, one of the scotch bottles in hand already. Matt begins meal prep while Mello drinks, and they make easy conversation. Mello complains about the never ending phone calls about interviews, Matt suggests a voice modifier and a radio interview. They discuss the numbers on the the new novel, what Mello wants to do with the book about L, whether he should talk to Near or Linda or Roger. Mello scoffs at the very idea but they both know he'll get in contact with Near at the very least.

They don't bother sitting at the table when dinner is ready; it's covered in Mello's notes and out of order pages from his first three or four drafts. The couch is the next option, Mello's worked his way through half his glass of scotch, and pours one for Matt when they sit down.

Eating in near quiet is pretty normal for them, content to sit close. At the table, they end up with their feet or ankles touching, at the couch they sit side by side, Matt can feel Mello's body swell with every breath he takes.

It's a nice feeling for him. Too many times he's seen Mello's chest heave up and down, too fast. Too many times, he's seen Mello's chest move much too slowly, or not at all. To feel it, even and calm, it makes him feel better. Seeing the expressions of utter pain and panic on Mello's face as he convulses, those memories will never leave Matt's head, neither will the image of Mello's half burned body after the warehouse explosion.

He doesn't like dwelling on those thoughts though, they never end well. Matt prefers Mello how he is now, alive and breathing. Breathing, though sometimes he has trouble doing that. A long as he's alive in Matt's arms at the end of the day, everything will be okay.

"Something bugging you?" Mello asks, taking another sip of scotch. He can hold his liquor without issue, the full glass isn't that big of deal, Matt thinks he could probably drink the entire bottle and be fine.

"Nope."

"Then what's got you making that face?"

"What face?"

"I don't know, you looked upset, and kinda weird."

"Weird?"

"Yeah."

There's a smile on Mello's lips and Matt really wants to kiss him. So he does, kissing his forehead, then his nose, both his cheeks, he lays kisses across Mello's jaw before finally reaching his lips.

"Now," Mello whispers, "What did I do to deserve that?"

They're face to face, Mello's bangs tickling Matt's forehead. Like this, Matt can't see much fine detail, but he can make out the sharp blue of Mello's eyes and, really, that's enough.

"You're here. Have I ever told you how amazing you are?"

"All the time," the false bravado fools neither of them, but Mello would rather play that card than blush when Matt could potentially feel the heat radiating from his cheeks.

"Well, I'm gonna keep telling you."

Mello starts laughing, he wraps his arms around Matt's neck and pulls him close. They stay like that for a little while longer before Matt realizes Mello is about to fall asleep on him. It's not like he minds, but it's not exactly comfortable, for either of them.

"Mells, let's go to bed, okay?"

"Hmm?"

"Bed. You're tired. Let's go."

Matt scoops him up and sets him on his feet. Mello shuffles down the hall to brush his teeth and slip into pajamas, and Matt cleans up their dinner dishes. The days of severe insomnia are behind them, they sleep more now. Mello gets tired on the days he has attack. They take most everything he has from him. Matt knows it wasn't a full blown attack when Mello called earlier, but it still must have worn him out.

Their power nap on the couch must not have helped.

It's a topic Mello doesn't like. The attacks. He knows Matt's proud of him, knows Matt loves him, but that doesn't change anything. He's told Mello that it's not a weakness, it's not something he should be ashamed off. But Mello still views it as a personal failure. Ever since the explosion, ever since the Kira case, Mello's been unable to cope properly. Near secured him a prescription without a psychologist only a few weeks after the end of the case. Somehow he'd known.

But he's doing well, Matt knows. Aside from locking himself up, unable to handle much of anything, Mello's doing well. He's doing better than expected. Given the circumstances, Matt thinks he deserves a free pass. He doesn't know if Mello will ever come to terms with it though.

By the time Matt joins him in their bedroom, Mello's already under the covers, staring at the ceiling. Matt slips off his shirt and kicks off his jeans, comfortable and tired enough to sleep in his boxers.

Mello cuddles up to him as soon as he's under the comforter, pressing a kiss to the small scar on his shoulder. It takes only a few seconds for the both of them to get comfortable, and Mello is just about to drift back to sleep when Matt opens his mouth.

"Hey, Mells?"

"What is it?"

"I really am proud of you, you know that, right?"

"Shut up."

"No, really. Everything you've done, and how you're managing, I'm proud of you."

"Matt, stop talking," Mello ducks his face, lightly digging his nails into Matt's back to get him to shut up.

"Just letting you know," Matt mumbles, pressing a kiss to the top of Mello's head.

Matt thinks he feels Mello's lips spread into a smile, but he's not entirely sure. And that's fine, Mello will get it eventually. And if not, Matt will just have to keep telling him.


End file.
